


Only One Bed

by beejohnlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Sherlock is a smol, bed sharing, they take care of each other, whoops we got boners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8302696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beejohnlocked/pseuds/beejohnlocked
Summary: John is drugged during a case out of town, and Sherlock must share a bed with him. Things spiral.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yorkiepug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yorkiepug/gifts), [aka sandy who I know loves bed sharing](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aka+sandy+who+I+know+loves+bed+sharing).



> Just an FYI- this isn't dubcon or non-con in any way. Sherlock is a perfect gentleman and he and John do not ravish each other until AFTER John sobers up. Just wanted to make that clear. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes would love to say that bed-sharing for a case is advisable. He would love to say it ends in love confessions and endless amounts of sex. He would love to encourage others to try it out a bit.

But he couldn’t say that. He realized it the very moment that he was lying next to a sleeping John Watson. John was drugged during a case. The perpetrator was arrested and John was checked out and declared safe to return home.

Only in this case, "home" meant a hotel in Edinburgh. And now John was suffering the after-effects of a powerful narcotic forcibly injected into his system.

The entire ride to the hotel, John slurred and railed against the world and made his best attempts at cuddling with Sherlock. None of his tactics made any headway with the great detective. His slurs were smirked at. His righteous indignation was granted a pat on the shoulder. His attempts at affection were declined, Sherlock’s face turning crimson as he stuttered through his gentle rejection.

“Mmm, buut Shhherrllock, I love youu! Shhleep with mee.”

“You’re d-drugged, John. You don’t know w-what you’re saying.” Sherlock wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. If he were being truthful, he had been dreaming of the day that John would invite him to bed, but it had gone a bit differently in his mind.

And the worst part is, technically he _would_ be sleeping with John tonight. Their room had only one bed and no sofa. It was either that or sleep on the hard floor, and John was gone to the world anyway. Sherlock assured himself that the moment John’s head hit the pillow, he’d be completely out and Sherlock would be safe from his attentions.

It saddened him to no end that it had to be this way, but there was no way of knowing if John would want him while sober. There was no way of knowing he would even remember any of this in the morning- and if Sherlock was honest with himself, it was doubtful that he would.

Either way, he looked forward to a night of modestly sleeping beside the love of his life. Oh, who was he kidding? He looked forward to a night lying awake and thinking.

When their cab arrived at the hotel a few minutes later, John was dozing with his head against Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock paid the driver and practically carried John to their room, spilling him unceremoniously onto the bed and removing his shoes.

John half-woke momentarily. “C'mere, Beauutifffull.” He held out his hand toward Sherlock, and Sherlock caved- just a little.

He rationalized that he was going to be sleeping next to John anyway, John was on his way back to sleep, they were fully clothed, and if the worst that happened in the morning was John feeling a bit embarrassed about having cuddled with him, Sherlock figured it was a fair trade. He went willingly.

John made a contented hum and gathered Sherlock into his arms. Sherlock’s heart was racing and he tried his best to relax. John placed a kiss to his forehead. Sherlock’s heart galloped anew and his breathing stuttered.  
“Go to sleep, John.”

“Mmmkayy. Lllove youu.”

Sherlock paused, feeling part of himself break inside. “I love you, too,” he finally spoke, but he was pretty certain John was no longer awake to hear it. He decided to lie with John, just for a while. He may as well enjoy this feeling while it lasted.

 

*****

  
Sherlock opened his eyes to sunlight streaming in the windows and a blonde head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. The night before came rushing back as he realized he and John were wrapped around each other like barnacles and Sherlock was. Oh.

This was definitely not good. He was hard as a rock and his cock was pressing against one of John’s thighs. In turn, John’s answering erection was digging into his hip. The compulsion to rut was nearly overwhelming. Sherlock felt he was two or three good thrusts away from coming.

Why, oh why had he let this happen? A stiff back from sleeping on the floor would’ve been so much better than _this_ \- a stiff prick against your sleeping, platonic flatmate.

Sherlock wanted to formulate a plan on how to get himself untangled from John, but the man was half on top of him. There was no way he would be able to remove himself without waking him.

Sherlock’s face flooded with an aroused embarrassment. What would John do? Would be shoot out of bed, mumbling and making apologies? Would he laugh it off, red-faced and awkward? Or would he stay? Would he hold Sherlock tighter, rubbing their cocks together until they both spilled into their pants?

Sherlock stopped that train of thought in its tracks. He could not go there, not now. Not when his cock was already leaking inside his trousers. God, when would John wake up already? This was unbearable.

Almost as though on cue, John moaned softly. His arms tightened around Sherlock and he began to mouth along Sherlock’s neck, nipping and suckling at it.

Oh. My. God. Clearly John wasn’t fully awake yet and didn’t realize what he was doing. He must be coming out of his dreams, undoubtedly starring various scantily-clad women.

John’s hands skimmed down Sherlock’s waist and he brought them around to his arse, cupping and pulling Sherlock more tightly against him. They groaned together and John ground his cock into Sherlock’s hip.

Jesus God in heaven. Sherlock needed to stop this before it was too late. “John, wake up. John.”

Sherlock heard a low chuckling. “I am awake, you madman.”

“Wait, what?” If John was awake, it meant he was aware of what he was doing. It meant he was rubbing his erection against Sherlock on purpose. It meant-

John’s hand suddenly cupped his aching cock through his trousers, and Sherlock cried out in surprised pleasure. John wanted him. He gasped. John _wanted_ him.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” John’s voice was a low growl as he stroked Sherlock through the layers of fabric. “I suppose I should thank you for being such a gentleman last night. Though it really was unnecessary.”

Breathless lust hit Sherlock hard. “You…remember?”

John laughed again. “Bits and pieces. I guess I should thank our perp for giving me some courage.” John’s hands moved to Sherlock’s flies. “Take these off.”

“Yes. John, please.” Sherlock’s hands were fluttering and he felt utterly useless. Luckily it didn’t seem to bother John. The good doctor divested him of his clothing and followed suit. Once they were both very naked, John spread his legs and settled between them.

“This sounds funny to say now, seeing as we are both completely starkers, but…can I kiss you, Sherlock Holmes?”

Sherlock answered by crossing the distance between them, their lips and tongues laving at each other’s in a sensual dance, their dual erections bumping and sliding against one another. Sherlock moaned helplessly into John’s mouth as he thrust upward, his renewed interest taking on a sharp stab of need. He didn’t really care if he came all over himself and John embarrassingly quickly. He was too far gone to mind.

John’s hand came down on his him and stilled him. “Just a mo’ love.” Sherlock writhed as John lowered himself until his head was between Sherlock’s legs.

“Let me suck you off?” John phrased it as a question, but Sherlock couldn’t even verbalize the word yes. Instead he moaned, long and loud, and twitched his hips toward John’s open mouth.

The man above him took the hint and took Sherlock deep into his mouth, almost choking on his cock. Jesus fuck. It was hot and tight, wet and sloppy. It felt as though John was trying to suck Sherlock’s soul out through his cock and God he could have it if that’s what he wanted.

John was making noises, too. Humming and moaning greedily like Sherlock’s cock was the best thing he’d ever tasted. John’s hand not pinning Sherlock down started to pull rhythmically on his own cock and his muffled sounds got needier in response.

Sherlock was helpless to do anything more than pant raggedly and let out broken cries. He felt himself going cross-eyed with the pleasure of it. Suddenly John’s hand that was holding him let go and grabbed Sherlock’s hand, which until that point was clutching the bedsheets. John moved Sherlock’s hand to the back of his head and said “mm?”

Oh god. The invitation couldn’t be clearer. Sherlock held John’s head and began to thrust, hesitantly at first, but soon was pounding into his throat. And John. God he liked it. This was turning him on.He enjoyed having Sherlock’s cock hitting the back of his throat. He enjoyed the rough push and pull in and out of his mouth.

John’s moans of encouragement took on a sudden desperation and he began fucking into his own fist as Sherlock fucked into his mouth. John stiffened and went quiet for a beat and then he came apart under his own hands, under Sherlock’s cock, shuddering and whimpering as his mouth softened a bit.

“Oh god, oh god, oh John!” Sherlock thrust upward into the slack willing mouth as the sensation of pleasure overtook him and he flooded John’s mouth with come, tight spasms washing over him in waves and leaving him a collapsed heap of oversensitive nerves on the bed.

“God, yes.” John’s voice was hoarse as he crawled back up Sherlock’s body. He licked into his mouth and Sherlock could taste himself on John’s tongue. He was _part_ of John now. John had a physical bit of Sherlock inside of him. Sherlock shivered with the knowledge of it.

“That was. Incredible.” Sherlock felt out of breath and lethargic and content.

“God yeah it was.” John was lying atop him once more and they wrapped their limbs around each other. “I meant what I said last night, you know. I do love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I know. I heard you.”

Sherlock kissed John softly, knowing that he needed the reassurance as much as the other man. However things unfolded from here, he knew they would face it together.


End file.
